


I’m Not Okay

by botanist_filth (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Asian Frisk (Undertale), Autistic Chara (Undertale), Autistic Frisk (Undertale), Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Chara (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Child Death, Desi Frisk (Undertale), Found Family, Frisk (Undertale) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Frisk (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Indian Frisk (Undertale), Non-binary Hijinks, Nonbinary Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Nonbinary Monster Kid (Undertale), POC Frisk (Undertale), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Grillby (Undertale), Selectively Mute Frisk (Undertale), South Asian Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/botanist_filth
Summary: Frisk isn’t always ok. Getting killed and coming back to life can do that to you. But, life goes on. With the help of a perpetually burning bartender, a chocolate addicted ghost, and a soulless flower, can Frisk finally learn to heal.
Relationships: Alphys & Frisk (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr & Frisk, Flowey & Frisk (Undertale), Frisk & Chara (Undertale), Frisk & Grillby (Undertale), Frisk & Mettaton (Undertale), Frisk & Monster Kid (Undertale), Frisk & Papyrus (Undertale), Frisk & Sans (Undertale), Frisk & Toriel (Undertale), Frisk & Undyne (Undertale)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 72





	1. Flowers and Ghosts and Monsters, oh my!

No one knew where Frisk was. It probably was a good thing. Everyone would have lost their minds if they all found out. 

Going to retrieve a soulless flower at midnight wouldn’t be pleasing anybody.

Frisk had finally succeeded in coaxing Flowey to come with them. It involved them actively revealing that Chara was still around and somehow bound to their soul. 

If Flowey could have expressed proper emotion, he would have been weeping by now. 

Chara did not appreciate this and stayed quiet as Frisk left Mount Ebott, the silence being filled with Frisk’s soft humming.

Flowey had his vines coiled around Frisk’s arm. Chara had never seem him so calm. A sound suddenly jolted everyone out of their thoughts. 

It was Frisk’s cell phone. They had chosen the weirdest of ringtones. It was an old Hindi song from some Bollywood movie that no one except them had seen. It made them feel content, so no one ever asked about it.

“Crap.” Frisk uttered. They stared at their phone with absolute contempt, as if it could stare back. The caller ID showed the name “sans” and Flowey looked at Frisk as they scoffed.

“Smiley trash-bag.” They whispered and let out a series of tired cackles. “Why is that bone bag even calling you?” Flowey groused.

“Guess he might be worried. Or sad. Or pissed. Or a combination of all three.” Chara said aloud, resting one of their arms on Frisk’s shoulder.

Frisk shrugged. At this point, they didn’t really care. “I’m probably gonna have a ‘bad time’.” Flowey looked at them with utter contempt.

“Make any more of those hideous jokes, or so help me, Frisk.” Chara laughed. They didn’t laugh much, and it always made Frisk smile when they did. It was like seeing a rainbow.

“Can we get to Asgore’s house from here?” Frisk asked, glancing over at Chara. “Toriel is probably hella mad and I do not care enough to get lectured.” 

Flowey looked at the empty space that Frisk appeared to be communicating with. “Chara?” He asked. Frisk nodded. “I’ll explain this to you later. At least I’ll attempt to.”

Frisk did the “ok” sign with their hand, signaling Chara that they could take control. Their eyes suddenly brightened from a dark brown to a blood red. 

Flowey looked from the empty space back to Frisk. Or Chara controlled Frisk. “Don’t ask, Azzy. Please. Don’t ask.” Chara whispered. Flowey nodded. This was all too much for him.

Chara made their way to Asgore’s house, with Flowey in tow. “Frisk, we’re here now.” Chara declared. 

The red faded from their eyes, back to the dark brown that everyone was accustomed to. 

“Thank you.” Frisk mumbled. It was quite odd when they weren’t in control. They felt so peculiar, and honestly hated the feeling entirely.

Asgore didn’t live with everyone else. Toriel was quite, adamant, about him not being near her. Not that Frisk really cared. Divorce was weird, and relationships can be even weirder.

“Do you think he’s even awake now?” Flowey muttered, craning his head to try and look through the windows. “Night terrors. About the humans.” Flowey looked at Frisk with utter shock.

“I have them, too. But about monsters.”

No matter. Frisk raised their hand and gently knocked on the door. They heard someone pushing a chair in, and the door handle opening.

It was Asgore. He let out a little gasp, and smiled. 

“Frisk, my child. What are you doing here at such an hour?” His eyes fell upon Flowey. “You brought a friend with you? Wonderful! I could make you a cup of tea if you’d like.” 

Frisk smiled. “I would like that.” They whispered. 

Asgore’s eyes widened. Frisk never spoke that much, at least out loud. He opened his arms in the gesture of a hug and Frisk reciprocated it, hugging him back. 

Flowey squirmed to get out of the way, and glared at Frisk with annoyance. “Come in, my child. It is lovely to see you.”

It was nice, Frisk thought. It was nice to see him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I redid my chapter entirely. Enjoy the hijinks of my non-binary children and me delving into Frisk’s trauma. Also, Asgore and Grillby will be co-parenting Frisk, I take no suggestions. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	2. Tea and Crying

Frisk was now in Asgore’s house, having a cup of tea. They had managed to get Flowey into a flower pot, but he kept giving them his death glare. 

Having an ornery flower was not a thing Asgore had expected, but he welcomed it. 

“My child, what are you doing here at such an hour?” Asgore inquired. Frisk sighed. They were really hoping that Asgore wouldn't be asking that question. 

The universe didn’t seem to be in their favor today.

Frisk feigned a yawn and then shook their head. “You can not sleep?” They nodded, hands shaking happily. 

Not many people could understand the way Frisk communicated. It made them happy when someone did.

As Frisk finished their cup of tea, Asgore placed his back on the saucer. “It is quite late, Frisk. I am going to head back to bed.” They nodded. 

“Can I stay?” 

They really didn't want to see Toriel. The feeling of your own flesh burning and anguished screams did not need to linger in Frisk’s mind. 

Asgore smiled and patted Frisk’s head.

“Of course, young one. This house is yours as well.” 

Flowey had been watching the entire exchange. He didn't understand why Frisk avoided most of the monsters. 

He did remember this side of his father.

The gentle, loving side.

The side that had given him and Chara so much love. 

The side that he hadn't gotten to see for so, very long. 

Flowey grumbled. He couldn't say all this out loud.

“Oh, Frisk. Is this your friend?” Asgore asked, moving his eyes to stare at the disgruntled flower. 

They nodded and took a silvery marker out of their jacket pocket.

They began to write something in flowery cursive. It was his name. Flowey. 

“Flowey? Is this his name?” Frisk smiled brightly and nodded.

Flowey had never seen them this happy before. He found it very pleasant, though.

Frisk’s eyes started to droop. Despite not being able to sleep, their exhaustion was catching up with them.

“Tired?” Frisk tried to answer, but let out a small yawn instead. Asgore chuckled.

“Come, my child. Would you like me to tuck you in?”

A million thoughts started to run amok in Frisk’s head.

“Too old for this. Too undeserving. Such a waste of space. Go to the place where you’re sure to disappear.”

Frisk suddenly placed their hands to their ears and squeezed their eyes closed. 

They dropped to their knees and started crying. 

It wasn't loud crying, more like the cries a child tries to hide from other people.

Asgore knelt down in front of Frisk. This seems to be very familiar to him. “May I?” He asked, and opened his arms. 

They nodded. 

Asgore closed his arms around Frisk. 

“I’m sorry.” They croaked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so so so so so sorry.” 

Tears streamed down their face. Everything hurt so much.

Asgore gently ran his paw down their back, a feeble attempt to calm them down. It worked.

Frisk took a deep, shuddering breath. Tears still streamed down their face, but they weren't crying anymore. 

“Thank you.” They whispered, hugging Asgore as tightly as they could. 

He smiled at Frisk. It was one of those sad smiles, which mostly get used by adults. He picked them up and placed them on his pull out couch. 

They preferred it to a normal bed, but Asgore didn't ask why.

He handed Frisk two blankets. They took one and spread it over the couch itself. They then lay on top of the first blanket, and snuggled under the second one. 

“Better?” Asgore asked. “Better.” Frisk said quietly. 

“Sleep well, my child.” He gave them a small kiss on top of their head and left the room. He turned off the lights as he left.

“Frisk?” Flowey hadn't spoken throughout that entire ordeal. “Are you ok?” “Nuh-uh. But I can try to be.” They rasped. 

“Can you try and tell me about Chara when you get up?” His eyes held a hopeful gleam, one not many people seemed to ever see. 

There was no answer. 

Frisk had already fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Frisk is dealing with some shit. Asgore tries to help since he is just trying his best. Flowey is the bastard we all love, BUT HE CARES. I'm currently dreading the election so expect a few random chapters over the next few days. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	3. Culture Confusion and Bad Dreams

Frisk didn’t have the most pleasant dreams. They tended to be full of their “escapades” in the Underground. Not fun escapades, mind you. Ones that caused Frisk to wake up screaming bloody murder. Tonight was one of those kinds of nights.

Voices rang out in Frisk’s head. It was like a cacophony you could never be able to drown out. This particular dream was of Undyne. Like stated before, it was not a very nice dream

Frisk was running. There was this seemingly never ending bridge. Whoever built it should have been poked with needles. Undyne was after them. Her spears were never fricking ENDING. She was trying to kill them.

They were already heavily injured, those stupid spears adding more crap to the ever growing dumpster pile. Before long, Frisk had tripped. Their sprained ankle was too swollen to even limp on at this point. 

Undyne was in front of them. Frisk started to scream, to plead. “Please don’t kill me. Please.” Tears started streaming down their face. “I don’t wanna die!” Despite their pleas, Undyne lifted them up by their shirt. 

They seemed to know what was going to happen. They screamed and kicked feebly at her armor, but to no avail. Their cries abruptly stopped and a spear found its home in their chest. 

Undyne let them go and they fell onto the bridge with a soft bump. They moved their hands to their lips. The blood was already beginning to spill. “What did I ever do to you?” They choked out, more blood appearing as a result. “You’re standing in the way of everybody’s hopes and dreams, haven’t you done enough?”

“What about my dreams? What about my hopes?” Frisk whispered. “I don’t get why that kid likes you so much. You’re just a dumb bully.” Undyne seemed to see red at this statement.

Two more spears were suddenly jutting out of Frisk. They extended their hand out and it appeared as if they were holding someone’s. “Ch-char.” They whimpered. “It hurts. It hurts really bad.”

Their brown eyes met Undyne’s. She didn’t know, but she swore the kid didn’t have red eyes before. “See you next time. Fish face.” For a second, everything really, really, REALLY hurt. Then it didn’t.

Frisk remembered. They remembered all Undyne had said to them. All the things she had done to them. They were wide awake now, with no hope of getting back to bed. 

“Happy I didn’t wake up screaming.” They thought. “Asgore would have come running. Don’t gotta disturb anyone now.” Quietly, they picked up their backpack from the floor.

After a bit of digging, Frisk found what they were looking for. A crappy pink MP3 player with two faded stickers on the back. It was one of their oldest possessions, aside from two of their favorite books.

They fished out the earphones that went along with it. No one ever needed to hear them listening to Lata Mangeshkar at ungodly hours of the morning. That was something no one should ever know.

The music filled their ears. It drowned out everything. Every thought, every worry, every trepidation. Nothing mattered except the lovely voice and instruments being played. It was very nice.

Frisk gently tapped their fingers on their knuckles. It was slightly off kilter to the beat of the music, but they didn’t care much. The feeling was familiar, which was something they didn’t always feel with the monsters.

None of them quite understood the idea of culture. Every human was just a human to most of them. Frisk wasn’t able to explain the concept of language. Hindi, Tamil, Sanskrit, Telugu, Punjabi, Urdu, Bengali, Gujrati. There were so many languages and they were different yet similar at the same time. 

Food was an even harder topic. No one knew why Frisk piled random spices on their food. It’s not like they understand the craving for a spice that can leave you reeling with tears in your eyes. Spices so good that Frisk shook their hands in delight just thinking about them.

It was hard. Most of the monsters didn’t get it. They asked why. Why were people calling them a terrorist? Why were they telling them to go back where they came from? Frisk just smiled and pushed it down.

Grillby was one of the people who tried to understand. Frisk brought in recipes for Indian food they remembered enjoying. Daal, papad, palak paneer. They didn’t forget about the samosas, those were their absolute favorite.

He tried making them. To, varying degrees of success. Both of them swore to never bring up the ‘Dosa Incident”. That was a very weird day. Frisk had no idea you could actually burn an entire dosa. It was really funny to remember.

A small beep broke them out of their subconscious. It was their watch. A LEGO watch based off a Ninja cartoon. We don’t judge here. It was their alarm for 5:45 in the morning. 

Fantastic. Frisk paused the music and put their MP3 player back in the bag. They rapped their knuckles on the coffee table where Flowey was. He didn’t really sleep, but he knew what this was for. 

Frisk was finally going to tell him. Tell him about Chara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I’m desi and I have my license to write about culture confusion. This also stems from my own personal experience soooo yeah. Fire Dad is best dad, I am very scared about the election results, and I’m ignoring my schoolwork as being a sophomore is hell. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	4. Tears and Confessions

Frisk wasn't sure how to explain it. The whole situation was quite confusing, really. Somehow, they had enough determination to unknowingly resurrect a dead child’s soul.

Said child had the ability to control Frisk’s body for short periods of time. It was very maddening to have someone inside of your own head.

Two traumatized children do not always make for good company. This is quite true for this situation. Frisk loved Chara, but they also hated them at times.

They hated the times Chara tried to take control of their body. It was THEIR body, not Chara’s. They hated when Chara would demonize them for being human. They can’t help it. They hated the constant chatter that filled their head. They hated the times Chara called them a crybaby. They hated whenever Chara said that they had it worse. 

Frisk still loved them, though. It was just very, very hard. 

Flowey already knew a lot of that. Frisk had a tendency to sneak back to the Underground, specifically to talk to him. He never knew what to say. He had an inkling of what it was like when he absorbed Chara’s soul. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a year on end.

“Can Chara talk to me? Through you, I mean.” Frisk rolled their eyes at Flowey’s request. “Mine. Not theirs.” They pointed to their chest, covered by a dark purple t-shirt embroidered with stars. “I’ll let them control me. Just this once.”

Flowey’s eyes seemed to sparkle. If they could have. “Really? You’d do that?” Frisk nodded. “I love you guys and I wanna see you happy.” They whispered. Chara was listening to this entire exchange. Tears filled their eyes.

Chara appeared in front of Frisk, mouthing an invisible “thank you.” Suddenly, Frisk’s eyes shone red. A Chara colored red. “Chara? Is it really you?” Flowey said.

“In the flesh.” Chara flexed Frisk’s arms, the joints in their knuckles popping as they stretched their hands. “Chara, for Pete’s sake! I can get arthritis from that!” Frisk’s voice hissed. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop. Don’t worry, Frisk, my love.” 

That was a joke the two of them had. Since they had to share a consciousness, they tended to argue like an “old married couple” in Frisk’s eyes. Chara called Frisk “my love” as a joke and Frisk called Chara “my dear-heart ”. It was funny, to them, at least.

Chara and Flowey talked for a long time. Chara cried. At least two times. Flowey would have cried, if that was possible. It was 8:15 when Frisk started to get a bit impatient. “My dear-heart . May I please have my flesh suit back?” Their voice rang out in Chara’s head. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Give me a second.” Chara gave a small smile to Flowey. The red suddenly drained from Frisk’s eyes, the dark brown returning. “Jiminy fricking crickets, I missed my hands.” Frisk thought. They shook their hands happily, the joints in their wrists cracking as they did so.

“Up already, I see.” A voice said behind Frisk. The blood drained from Frisk’s face and their ears swarmed with noise. Suddenly, they weren’t in Asgore’s house. They were back in Waterfall, gazing at an echo flower.

“Behind you.” It whispered. Frisk’s head shot back, heart pounding painfully. It was Undyne, spear held in hand. “NO!” Frisk screamed, their voice crackling with their own fear. There was nowhere to run. They were trapped. 

The spear embedded itself in their chest, the sound of it tearing through their flesh was too familiar. There was so much blood. Too, too much blood.

“Frisk. Frisk!” A voice boomed throughout the memory. It was Asgore. Frisk wasn’t in Waterfall anymore. They were back in Asgore’s house. With Flowey. With Asgore. With Chara. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Asgore looked concerned. “Frisk. My child.” At those words, Frisk began to wail.

Their arms wrapped around Asgore, one of their hands holding onto his arm as they sobbed. “Didn’t wanna remember. Didn’t wanna.” Asgore gently shushed Frisk as he rocked them back and forth. “No one will harm you here, young one. I promise you that.”

Frisk tried to say something, but hiccuped instead. They started to laugh through their tears. Asgore chuckled as well, a calm look on his face. “Would you like some breakfast, my child?”

Frisk nodded. “M-maybe. Grillby’s? Good selection.” Asgore nodded. He didn’t have enough for breakfast in his house. Two end pieces of bread and tea don’t really work for a full meal.

They hugged Asgore again, hiding their face in his shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” “You’re very welcome.” He answered, patting Frisk on the head after they were released from the hug.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door. Well, shit. It was sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a shitty home life at the moment, found family is all I have. If anyone could help me out, please message me. I really need someone to talk to. Also, I’m holding sans accountable next chapter, since I’m tired, vindictive, and spiteful. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	5. Skeletons and Declarations

Frisk didn't know why they disliked sans so much. 

Maybe it was because he didn't even try to keep his promise to Toriel. Maybe it was because he threatened them in Mettaton’s restaurant. 

Maybe it was because he had accidentally let Papyrus kill them that one time. Maybe it was because he sometimes referred to them as an “anomaly.”

Frisk did not like sans. They called him “smiley trashbag”, along with Flowey. They were petty and didn't listen to what he told them.

Why should they? He wasn't their guardian. He didn't have any legal holding over them. Neither did Toriel.

Frisk’s guardianship was an odd affair for the monsters. Their mother wasn't good at all. They never spoke about her, but they remembered.

They remembered warm blood trickling down their lips after being slapped.

They remembered eating stale crackers when she left them in a hot car for three hours.

They remembered being abandoned and left at the bus stop near Mount Ebott.

Frisk wanted to call Toriel ‘mom’. They really wanted to. They just couldn't. Being burned to death by her fifteen consecutive times changed their mind.

Toriel wanted custody of Frisk, but they refused.

She couldn't be their mom. They didn't need her as a mom. They didn't want a mom, period.

Grillby had volunteered for custody. Frisk was quite pleased with that. Out of all the monsters in the Underground, Grillby had never once tried to harm them. 

He was also one of the only people who could deal with a traumatized child properly. Aside from Asgore, of course.

Toriel tried to smother them. Papyrus did well enough, but he was too loud. 

Alphys tended to be a nervous wreck. The less said about sans’ attempts, the better.

Undyne was way too touchy and once ended up getting an encyclopedia thrown her way.

Mettaton was just, well he was just there. He at least asked if they wanted to be left alone. 

Grillby and Asgore were the only ones who could make them truly remember where they were.

They weren't burning to death in the ruins, were not freezing to death in Snowdin, weren’t dying from blood loss in Waterfall. 

Frisk was on the Surface. They were ok.

That was why, when sans knocked again, Frisk hid their face in their sweater sleeves and groaned.

They didn't want to see him, they didn't care about seeing him.

Asgore opened the door, revealing the titular skeleton. Frisk removed their face and internally scowled. As did Flowey, but you could see his scowl.

“hey kiddo.” They didn't like that nickname, they did not like it at ALL. “you and i need to have a little chat.” Asgore looked from the exhausted human to the perpetually smiling skeleton. 

He didn't think he wanted to get involved in this.

Asgore gently patted Frisk’s shoulder. “I shall be in the next room, my child. You may come when you're ready to leave.” Frisk smiled and nodded. 

After Asgore left, sans took his spot in the chair he was just sitting in. “tori misses you.” his voice was blunt. “Well, I don't miss her.” Frisk said. 

“she just wants to see you-” “I DON’T WANT TO SEE HER!” They spat, digging their nails into their palms. The pain felt good.

“kid, for once in your life, just listen.” Frisk saw red at those words. “Listen? LISTEN?” Their nails dug deeper into their palms.

“None ever listened! You! Just sitting there! That was no promise! Lied!” Frisk’s words grew short as they got more upset.

“All hurt me! Acting like all’s fine! Not fine! Not at all!” Tears welled in their eyes. Wasn't fair, wasn't, it wasn’t, it wasn’t!

Frisk stood up from the table. sans had seen the whole meltdown, not saying a word. As tears streamed down their face, Frisk smiled and they picked up Flowey’s pot.

“Tell Asgore left early. Needed some air.” 

With that, they exited through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote something. Had a day off due to Veterans Day. Somehow. I might write more as I have free time. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	6. Deaths and Traversing

It would be foolish to think that Frisk’s deaths hadn't affected them. They had. Very, very, very much. 

They all said it was for the greater good. That the ends would justify the means, but they didn't. It was all utter bullshit.

Toriel didn't listen and still flung fire at them. She was deaf to their wailing and kept fighting.

All for the sake of teaching them how to survive. It hurt a whole lot when she killed them.

It was never slow and tended to happen in an instant, but the pain. The pain lingered for a while and went away after an hour or so.

Snowdin was odd. Frisk remembered freezing to death at least twice. Dogamy and Dogaressa were horrid. Their axes really didn't need to exist in any way, shape, or form.

Papyrus killed them once. It was by total accident, but it was horrifying. He had lost his control on Frisk’s soul and they got impaled by one of his bones.

That one was very bad. They remembered how they coughed up so much blood. Papyrus was freaking out. 

The library had said monster souls were made out of love, hope, and compassion. 

Stupid. That book was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Waterfall was the absolute worst. Undyne killed them more times than they could remember. Her deaths hurt the most and they were the slowest ones. 

Frisk had bled out in a corner, trying to hide from Undyne. They had gotten skewered on more occasions than one. 

Undyne wasn't the nicest. Her words echoed in Frisk’s head like a malfunctioning alarm clock. 

Hotland wasn't good. Frisk stopped keeping track after their tenth death there. Everything was a blur. A blur of pain and bad stuff.

Frisk had quite a few scars. 

A spear puncture from Undyne on their left forearm and a slash on their right ankle.

A burn from Toriel on their right palm and another running from their elbow to wrist.

Many bruises from Papyrus on their legs that never seem to fade.

Assorted scars from Mettaton’s weird attacks on their face and were too small to see.

The worst was a trident from Asgore. It was on their abdomen and stung if you felt it. Frisk did not feel the need to inform Asgore about this. 

“Frisk. FRISK.” Flowey barked. “You in there?”

Frisk snapped back to reality.

They were standing in front of Grillby’s. 

Their palms were bleeding heavily from their nails. 

They were holding Flowey’s pot. 

Chara was leaning on their shoulder like they always did.

“Took control while you were out. You ok?” 

Frisk sighed and shook their head. “No.” Chara hugged them, their arms snuggly wrapped around their neck. “Love you.” 

With Chara still hugging them, Frisk entered the restaurant.

The small bell chimed when they opened the door. The restaurant was empty as Grillby didn’t get many customers in the early morning.

Frisk went to their usual spot, a booth that was only able to fit two people. They placed Flowey on the table and sat down, curling up into a ball.

They couldn't explain how they felt. It was like they were empty, didn't want to do anything, but also really scared. 

Their nails started digging into their palms again. 

The pain was good, it felt real. They didn’t know what was real anymore.

“Flowey.” Frisk whispered and then looked up. 

“What's it like being soulless?” 

Flowey stiffened. “Sorry. Forget I asked.” Frisk’s nails dug tighter into their palms. It hurt even more.

“Didn't mean to pry. So to speak.”

Something caught in Frisk's throat. They tried to speak, but couldn't. 

Crap. It was happening again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote something. The plot will pick up more in the next chapter. Sorry if it's slogging a bit. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	7. Ghosts and Crosswords

Frisk had something called “selective mutism”. 

It was described as the inability to speak and communicate effectively in select social settings.

That made the most sense. Frisk could speak, mind you. They just had a hard time with it and only spoke around people they wanted to. 

They spoke willingly to Asgore, Grillby, Flowey, Chara, Monster Kid, and Napstablook. Most of the other monsters got withering stares.

There was another hiccup. Frisk sometimes froze up, and wasn't able to speak at all. Even to the people they trusted. It feels like their throat has closed up and they can't say anything because of it.

They have no clue what even managed to cause it. There just happened to be times where they just lose their voice completely. Now was one of those times.

“Frisk?” Flowey looked at Frisk with a perplexing gaze. They grasped their throat and pointed to their lips. They tried to speak but nothing came out.

Chara’s hand hovered over their shoulder. Frisk could feel their presence and it was nice. It made them feel as if they weren't alone. 

The presence didn't help all the time, though. It reminded Frisk of their times in the Underground when they tried to call out for help. But nobody came.

So, yes. Frisk was clasping their hands together and trying not to cry. They felt as if they had reached their “crying quota” of the day and did not want to exceed it. 

Chara’s eyes met Flowey’s. He knew they were there, and could slightly make them out. He was the one who still fully remembered them. Aside from Frisk, and Grillby, for some really weird reason.

Grillby had seen little things that made him realize Chara was present. 

The way Frisk seemed to be holding someone's hand, even when there wasn't a hand to be seen.

The way there seemed to be a weight on Frisk’s shoulder, even when nothing was there. 

The way Frisk laughed for no reason, hugging the air and the way the air seemed to hug back.

Grillby asked Frisk about this. They didn't know what to say. Chara was not ready to make themselves known, to anybody. Frisk was a very bad liar, though. 

“A friend. They helped me in the Underground, and still help me here.” 

“...do they have a name?”

“C-call them Ishu. It means a person as sweet as an angel.” 

Grillby referred to Chara as “Ishu”. Frisk had been researching unisex Indian names and Ishu was one they had liked. The meaning factored in as well.

Frisk remembered Gerson, and what he had told them about the prophecy.

“Legend has it, an 'angel' who has seen the surface will descend from above and bring us freedom.”

Chara was the first ‘angel’ who had come from the Surface, so the nickname made sense. In a way. 

Frisk wouldn't have given Chara the nickname if they weren’t South Asian, so it worked in each other's favors.

Time continued to pass. Frisk was occupied with trying to solve a crossword with Flowey. Chara was just floating around and gave Frisk a hint once in a while.

Nothing major was happening. It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write a nice, simple chapter where nothing big happened. Also, my school has gone to only virtual classes, as the COVID-19 cases are rising, in general and near us. I'll miss going to actual school those two days a week. My name is A.K., and I need some coffee.


	8. Finger Guns and Doodles

Frisk had forgotten about today. 

It had now been one year since they had freed the monsters from the Underground. One very, very interesting year. 

First things first, the monster kingdom wanted them to serve as their ambassador. It was quite ironic, really. 

The ones who hadn't shown them mercy. They now wanted Frisk to vouch for them. 

Frisk did understand. Some of the monsters had no idea they weren't going to hurt them.

It wasn't going to excuse all the pain that was inflicted upon them.

Frisk still felt Toriel’s fire singing their arms and face.

Frisk still felt the blood flowing from Undyne’s spear wounds.

Frisk still felt the sharp bruises and sprains from Papyrus’s bones.

Frisk still felt the wounds on their face from Mettaton’s weird magic attacks.

Frisk still felt Asgore’s trident piercing through their chest and not being able to staunch the blood.

Frisk knocked their knuckles on the table. Chara turned from the crossword to glance at Frisk.

They tugged at their shirt. “You're going to change?” Chara asked. Frisk nodded, pointing to the restrooms. 

Grabbing their backpack, Frisk got up from the booth and entered the restroom. 

The women's were always neater than the men’s ones. 

How did they know this? Personal experience.

Frisk looked in the mirror. 

Their dark brown hair had grown down to their shoulders. Their skin had tanned to a darker brown. Their eyes looked exhausted, but still bright.

“Despite everything, it's still you.”

Frisk let out a shriek. Chara was behind them, a big smile on their face. “Scared you, huh?” They asked through bits of laughter. 

Frisk rolled their eyes as they opened their backpack.

Thankfully, they had a spare outfit. It was a light pink shirt that stopped at the elbows and faded blue overall shorts. 

Frisk gestured for Chara to look away. Being seen burning alive was one thing. Getting seen while changing was another.

“Alright, alright. I’m not looking, but I have to say. Somebody needs to call the cops, because it is way illegal to look THAT good!”

Chara did finger guns and jokingly shot them Frisk’s way. Frisk let out a small laugh as they slipped out of their clothes.

As Frisk’s shirt fell to the ground, Chara held in a breath. They could see the scar of Asgore’s trident on Frisk’s back. It was slightly faded, but still very red.

“Oh. Oh god. Frisk, I’m-” Chara stammered. A series of sharp coughs interrupted them. 

“Chara. My dear-heart. It's ok. Don’t worry.”

At the mention of that cheesy nickname, Chara smiled. Frisk got their outfit on, signalling that they finished with a knock on the sink. 

Looking up at the mirror, Frisk scowled. “Can you help me braid my hair?” They rasped, pulling out two ribbons. 

One was faded pink and the other was dark blue. 

Chara nodded. “Of course, my love.” Their hands gently began to twist Frisk’s hair. After about five minutes, it was done. 

Frisk’s hair hung down in two braids, secured by the two ribbons. 

“Thank you.” Frisk’s hand reached out to grasp Chara’s. It felt very wispy, like a secret that was finally shared. Chara smiled. 

“Let's go back out. Az-Flowey probably went off the walls crazy trying to solve that crossword all on his own.” 

As they exited the restroom, Frisk noticed Chara’s accidental ‘Azzy’. It was something they were used to and it made them want to hug Chara even tighter.

“Finally!” Flowey barked. “You were taking AN ETERNITY!” Frisk noticed a small doodle on the side of the crossword. “Can I see?” They asked.

Flowey grumbled, turning his head away the best that he could. Frisk slid the paper over to their side of the booth. Their eyes widened in disbelief. 

It was him and Chara, doodled in a childlike scribble. Chara was hugging him and smiling widely. Flowey was as he is, a flower. 

But he looked happy. Happier than he was now.

“Pretty.” Frisk breathed out. They slid the page back over to Flowey. “I liked it.” Flowey looked back at them. He didn't say anything, but Frisk understood. 

Nothing needed to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it took me a long while to get this chapter out. Life is very stressful and I'm trying to get through. Everything hurts so bad. My name is A.K., and I need some help.


End file.
